


2. they can’t hurt you anymore

by spjderloki



Series: five times peter cried and one time he didn’t [2]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Precious Peter Parker, Protective Stephen Strange, Protective Tony Stark, Stephen Strange Acting as Peter Parker’s Parental Figure, Teen Peter Parker, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark/Stephen Strange parenting Peter Parker | Supremefamily | Strange Family, Trans Peter Parker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2019-07-27 09:10:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16215935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spjderloki/pseuds/spjderloki
Summary: peter’s entire body aches after a very bad day and he doesn’t know how or if he should reach out for help.





	2. they can’t hurt you anymore

**Author's Note:**

> trigger warning: mentions and minor descriptions of wounds, blood, bullying, a very small reference to transphobia.  
> stay safe! uwu

The adrenaline that ran through Peter’s veins was so powerful, the teenager just ran for twenty minutes straight instead of taking the bus. When he arrived the compound and stopped in the entrance of the building, he realized his heart was beating insanely fast. He could _hear_ his own pulse, feeling his palpitations on his red and sweaty face.

Trying to get himself together, he walked into the elevator and looked at himself in the mirror. One black eye, a bleeding lip, his nose probably broken. His ribs were bruised around the zone of the binder and it all hurt so bad.

“J.A.R.V.I.S, is anybody home?” he asked as he pressed a button and the elevator door closed behind him.

“Good evening, Mr Parker. Your father is home.”

“Tony?”

“No, Dr Strange. He is working on his lab. Should I tell him you have arrived?”

Peter shook his head, knowing the AI couldn’t see him. “No, thank you. I’ll just be in my room.”

“According to your vital signs, it seems that you are hurt. Are you sure I should not call Dr Strange?”

Peter sighed. “It’s nothing, J.A.R.V.I.S. I’ll be in my room.” He said as he walked out of the elevator, each step hurting as if he was stepping on glass. Sure, now that the adrenaline was gone, the only thing running through his veins was pain.

Closing the door behind him, he immediately walked into the bedroom’s bathroom and took his clothes off. He removed the binder and bit his knuckles to stop a scream. His chest was, of course, the zone of more damage.

Walking only in his boxers, he grabbed the first-aid kid tiptoeing and almost letting it fall from the last shelf. Letting out a sigh, he proceed to disinfect the injuries. He knew the whole procedure for it wasn’t the first time he had to take care of his own wounds by himself. Carefully, he finished the work by cleaning the remaining blood with some sterile gauze pads and, at last, he put his shirt back on without the binder. He washed his face and looked at himself once again just to come to a conclusion: he looked like _crap_. He could never pass through his parents without making them worry, and he hated to do that because, actually, it was not that big of a deal. It didn’t even hurt that much.

Except it was. And it did.

He returned to his bedroom and lay down on his bed, covering himself with blankets and turning on the TV, only to turn it back off one minute later. Not even Brooklyn Nine-Nine would make him feel better. He turned off his phone and left it on the night stand to afterwards fall asleep almost immediately.

He woke up when someone knocked the door. At first, his sight was blurry, and it took him a while until his senses fully returned - and, with that, the unceasing pain.

“Who’s there?” He weakly asked.

“Oh, you’re awake. Can I come in?” Stephen said and Peter swore under his breath.

“I... I’d rather you didn’t.” He answered, knowing that it wouldn’t stop his dad from checking in.

A second later, the man walked in. “What’s wrong? Are you okay, Peter?” He asked, and although Peter couldn’t see him since he was lying in the other direction, he could notice he was concerned. “You haven’t left the room in hours. Did something happen?”

Peter didn’t answer because he knew his weak voice would give him away in a second. Instead, he shook his head in silence. He felt how the bed gained weight and assumed his dad was still there. Still, he didn’t dare to look or talk, so he remained silent and waited for him to either realize what had happened or leave him alone. He would rather the last option... Or would he?

“Hey, Pete. Look at me.” The teenager shook his head once again, so his dad had to stand up and walk around the bed to look at him. When he did, he had to contain a gasp, because his son looked so _broken_. “What... What happened?”

Peter’s breathing started to speed up as he strongly closed his eyes. “Peter, who did this to you?”

“I-It’s nothing.”

“No, bullshit,” Stephen really couldn’t help to swear when his _child_ looked like that. “Who did this?”

“F-Flash Thompson.”

The man got up immediately. “That little rat, I’m gonna kick his ass. Who’s Flash Thompson’s mom? Is it Julianne? I bet it’s Julianne, that stupid woman...” His ride of rage hit a stop sign when he heard a sob. He glanced at Peter, who’s eyes were now glimmering because of the surfacing tears. The teenager tried to swallow the lump on his throat away, but he felt so overwhelmed and it hurt _so much_.

At that image, his father felt like someone had taken his heart and broken it like a piece of glass. He kneeled so they would be face to face and slowly uncovered Peter’s face, that was partially hidden under a bunch of blankets. Their gazes locked and Peter broke down, crying out loud like no one was listening. “I-It hurts...”

Stephen stroked his hair and nodded. “I know, baby boy. Where does it hurt?”

“E-Everywhere... I can’t- He wouldn’t stop and I- _Why_ does he hate me so much?”

His dad’s heart broke a little more. “You didn’t do anything wrong, love. This is his fault. He chooses to be a bad person.”

“But _why me_ , dad? W-What did I do?”

Stephen sighed sadly, caressing Peter’s wet cheek. “Nothing, baby. You didn’t do anything.” He stroked his hair a little longer before asking again, “Where does it hurt, love?”

“My ribs, mainly...” Peter replied but immediately warned, “I’m n-not wearing my binder, dad.”

“It’s okay, Peter,” Stephen smiled warmly, “I’m not gonna hurt you.” He pulled his son’s shirt up to see the wounds. He could see how well he had taken care of them and that made him feel proud, after all he is the son of a doctor. Still, he felt the guilt of not being there for him then. He examined the injuries one by one, carefully and lovingly.

The bitterness on his mouth when he found out that the most serious bruises were all around the zone of Peter’s binder (something the bully had done most likely on purpose) was something Stephen had to swallow with difficulty. He’d take care of that later, when Tony got home. When Peter was better.

“It’s okay,” he whispered at some point, realizing that his son was still crying, “I’m here. You’re safe.”

After healing the wounds and bruises on Peter’s chest and ribs, he looked for his painkillers and a glass of water. Peter accepted both gladly. His dad also turned on the TV.

“Wanna watch that thing you always talk about? The one with _James Peralta_?” Stephen asked and smiled when he heard Peter’s laugh.

“It’s _Jake_ Peralta, dad,” he said, “and yes, please?” So the rest of the evening they binge-watched the sit-com and laughed a lot.

Eventually, J.A.R.V.I.S warned that Tony had entered the facility, and Peter knew his dad was gonna snap as soon as he found out what had happened to him. Actually, that’s exactly what happened.

“That little shit,” he said, angry and impotent, “I’m gonna sue the shit out of him. Fucking bag of shit.”

“Maybe stop saying _shit_ in front of our son, Tony?” Stephen said and Peter repressed a smile. Tony exchanged a look with his husband before nodding and sighing.

“I’m okay, dad. I promise,” Peter said. It’s not that he wouldn’t have loved to see his parents sue Flash and kick his ass, but he’d rather see them calm and happy, not stressed or upset. Especially because of him.

Tony doubted for a second, considering the broken lip and purple eye his son had to deal with. Of course, he would heal fast, but Tony knew how long it would take for Peter to forget the actual wound - the pain, the fear. Nevertheless, he decided to let it go then. He knew something or someone would eventually take care of that Flash Thompson.

“Okay,” he said.

 _Okay_. Peter relaxed his tensed muscles and finished his meal.

The antibiotics had taken most of the physical pain away, but Peter still had a hard time falling asleep that night. He tried for like an hour, changing the position and side of the pillow a hundred times before he asked Karen to call his dad - Peter’s room had a different AI, the same as his suit, so that Peter would feel more comfortable when talking to it.

Two minutes later, Stephen walked in on his pijamas. “What’s the matter, Pete? Is it hurting again?” He asked and Peter shook his head as a reply.

“No, no, it’s not. I just-“ He looked at him and sighed before looking down. “I’m scared... And I don’t want to be alone.”

Stephen nodded, softly, before he placed himself next to Peter on the bed and smiled, looking at him. “It’s okay. They can’t hurt you anymore, I promise.”

**Author's Note:**

> second update today because i just couldn’t wait until tomorrow! i cried a little while writing this, so... yeah.  
> if you’re a victim or know someone who’s suffering from bullying, please, talk to an adult. you’re not alone. <3  
> if you liked this, maybe leave a comment and kudos!! i also happen to have a twitter account. (@avastrk)


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